Celeste’s POV, hours after she came home from her first shift:
“Celeste.” The voice is soft, as if it doesn’t want to disturb me.
I’m deadly tired, aching all over. I struggled to fall asleep last night despite going through my first shift and accepting another mate. Not to mention Bjørnar and I got some alone time, and he f****d my exhausted body to oblivion.
Nevertheless, my mind didn’t follow my body’s need to sleep. When the night crept on, and everything around me became silent, the grief hit me again. Bjørnar held around me as I cried. He was supposed to creep back into the slave quarters when night had fallen, but in the end, he stayed close to me. Understanding as ever, my mothers and friends made the same guarding arrangement as the night before.
“Celeste, wake up.”
When some
